The game was a lot closer than that tight score. A long 2nd-half shot hit the underside of the crossbar. It caromed down, directly onto the foot of a Falcon. He scored from close range.

That inspired our guys to battle even harder than before. We had our chances; we just couldn’t convert. The final whistle blew. Xavier remained undefeated. We should have headed to our bus.

Except we didn’t. For 20 minutes — long after the traditional post-game handshakes — players and coaches sat on the field. Through tears, we talked about the season that ended so abruptly. No one wanted to leave.

The 12 graduating seniors will miss playing in front of large crowds on The Hill. They’ll also miss playing with their “brothers.” (Photo/Kim Lake)

We wanted the season to keep going. Our goal — as it is every year — was to win our final match. We wanted another chance at Ridgefield — a team we’d tied earlier in the fall — in the semifinals. Then another shot at Greenwich, in the finals. The Cardinals were #8 in the country. We’d played them evenly for much of our regular season game. But then they pulled ahead, and thumped us.

Yet there was a more important reason everyone sat around, in the cold aftermath of that quarterfinal loss. No one wanted the season to end, because that would mean the fraying of the tightest bonds I’d ever seen one group forge.

Before every match, the Wreckers huddled together on the field. (Photo/Kim Lake)

The end of a season hurts even worse the next morning. I know, because I’ve been through it too many times. If you’re any good at all, odds are enormous that your season will end in a loss. Only one team wins it all.

All that next day, our players tried to make sense of the loss. They’d done everything “right.” More than 40 times, from January through June, they’d met for 6 a.m. fitness sessions. They’d run grueling hills, like the one by Elvira’s, all summer long. They’d played incessantly. They’d sacrificed social lives. They’d cut their hair into Mohawks, as a show of team solidarity.

They bounced back from a loss in the FCIAC tournament to put together the most focused, frighteningly intense week of training I’ve ever seen.

In the state tourney they knocked off defending state champs Norwalk 1-0 with a goal in the final 3 minutes, then gutted out a great victory against an excellent Newtown side, again by a 1-0 score.

They’d done everything “right” — everything the coaches asked, and they asked of themselves, and much more — yet they did not get what they “deserved.”

That sounds like a group of entitled Westport kids, wanting to win just because. It’s not. It’s a group of still-growing teenagers, trying to make sense of a wonderful, wild, compelling and cruel game. And, in trying to understand a game, learning about life.

On Sunday afternoon — the day after the loss — a player called. He just wanted to talk.

Yousef Shahin works his magic. (Photo/Kim Lake)

I wasn’t sure I could help. “There are no words,” I’d said to the team 24 hours earlier. “Nothing I can say can make you feel better.”

Still, I tried. I told the athlete that no, we hadn’t reached our destination. We had not gotten a state championship. We’d lost our last game of the season.

But, I said, that did not mean that the journey was not worthwhile. I told him I hoped the stops along the way — the work he’d put in, the friendships he’d made, the laughs he’d shared, the highs of victories and the agonies of defeats — were at least as important as the destination.

Trophies tarnish, I said. They gather dust. What he will keep in his heart from this year will never fade.

As we talked, I realized something else. I told this young man that I was proud of his passion. I was glad he had taken the loss so hard, had sobbed because of it. In a world in which too many people — of all ages — take the easy way out, this team stood apart.

They did not point fingers. They did not look for excuses. They gave everything they had to a cause. They committed themselves fully to a common goal. They cared about their school, and their sport. Most importantly, they cared about each other.

I told the player that, too. I hope it helped him to hear it. I know it did me some good to say it.

As the Staples team and fans celebrated a state tournament win against Norwalk, co-captain Jack Scott comforted an opponent. (Photo/MaryGrace Gudis)

The next day, in a classroom, we held our final team meeting. We reflected a bit on the year. We laughed, as we often had. Then we talked about next year. The 2014 season is 10 months away, but it’s also right around the corner.

When the meeting was over, I sat with a few seniors.

Several juniors headed to the field. They trained until it was too dark to see.

I think the photo of co-captain Jack Scott comforting the opposing team captain in the aftermath of Staples’ last-minute game-winning goal speaks volumes, not only about Jack, but also about the spirit and sportsmanship of the Staples soccer program.

Dan – Thank you for sharing this window into the Staples Soccer Team. One of the ingredients of all great teams is their complete disdain for losing. It’s a powerful force and often drives a team to put in the total commitment that you witnessed in this year’s squad. One of the best aspects of the Staples Soccer Program, something you have been absolutely critical in building, is the fact that while the seniors’ last season has ended, their team, as part of the Staples Soccer legacy, will continue in a new form for the rest of their lives. It’s an incredible gift that they have earned and you have been a big part of bestowing on them. Sign them up for the Top of the Hill Team!

You should be proud, Dan, of the teams you’ve built and the lives you’ve molded.

Off the main point, your story reminds me of my one brief brush with soccer at Staples. It came during an early fall semester phys ed class my sophomore year. Football coach Paul Lane saw me trip and fall flat on my face while trying to kick a soccer ball in a warmup. He told me no more soccer during football season — too dangerous. Instead, I would spend gym class in the weight room.

Through this season, I bet each team member came to know that indescribable feeling of playing together better than ever (like a rowing eight rowing well), and for that, it doesn’t matter that they didn’t win this one.

What a great piece, Dan. And, what a great group of classy guys! That includes you too, Dan. You are devoted to your players and the “team” and I think that really encourages them to do their very best for YOU! Thanks for giving your time and your love of the game to mentor and lead these guys.

Dan: That was absolutely beautiful. Those boys should be incredibly proud of the way that they performed. And grateful to have a coach such as you!
It reminds me of the way my younger son’s team (Armonk) ended its season. Similar record in NY State play. And over in a flash. But the boys grow from it. And never forget the bonds they forge.

Go Wreckers! We begin the NCAA tourney tomorrow and know intimately what Dan is writing about… so…To one of the best educators & coaches I know and to a team who may not have won it all, but did it all…WELL DONE! We are proud of your achievements but more importantly proud that you had the courage to wear the Staples shirt and risk it all for each other!
-mike Noonan

THANKS, Mike! To those who don’t know: Michael Noonan was a key member of Staples’ 1978 state championship team. As head coach at Brown University, he led the Bruins to numerous Ivy League championships. Now, he is the very highly regarded coach at Clemson University. Go Tigers!

Excellent comments. I coach a HS girls soccer team in Indianapolis and our season also ended shorter than what we would have liked. However like your team, our girls formed a very unique bond with each other and their season has an amazing experience they will never forget. I appaud you for the way you run your program and wish you nothing but success going forward- Ramon Aguillon Zionsville High School Girls Soccer Head Ceach

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